


Five Times Murdock Crossed Over

by Sparrowsverse



Category: Dollhouse, Highlander, Magnificent Seven (TV), Supernatural, The Sentinel
Genre: Crossover, Dark, Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-13
Updated: 2012-01-13
Packaged: 2017-10-29 10:56:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/319131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sparrowsverse/pseuds/Sparrowsverse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Murdock from The A Team, crosses over in five different ‘verses.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five Times Murdock Crossed Over

**Author's Note:**

> Major thanks to strangevisitor7 for the wonderful beta! As this is my first foray into writing any kind of A-Team fanfic, please be kind. ;) Written for the first ateamfanfic challenge. Timelines and technology were messed around with to fit into the fics.

**HIGHLANDER**

Methos tuned out the chatter from the doctor, who was showing him around the Westwood VA Medical Centre.   
He was trying to concentrate on the buzz tickling the back of his head.

It was when they stepped into the psychiatric ward that he was able to pinpoint who the buzz was coming from.

"And this is the recreational centre for our more mentally ill patients," the doctor explained. Methos thought the man's name was Doctor Bean or Dean, something along those lines, but he didn't really care at this moment.

What he did care about was the patient in front of him who was painstakingly crafting an airplane out of Popsicle sticks with drippy glue.

“Doctor,” Methos interrupted the man. “May I stay up here for a bit, get a feel for a place?”

The doctor sputtered. “But this is not your field of expertise!”

“Maybe not, but I think it helps to get a perspective in all areas of medicine,” Methos smiled charmingly.

“Well...” the doctor hummed and hawed.

“So, glad you agree!” Methos grinned as he herded the doctor towards the exit. “I’ll meet up with you in your office later on.”

The doctor never stood a chance as he was ushered out of the psychiatric ward with a confused look on his face.

“And now that’s taken care of,” Methos muttered and made his way back over to the man who had captured his attention .

He approached the table and made sure his steps were heavy so as not to startle the man. Methos could only hope that the man had felt his buzz earlier.

Chestnut coloured eyes flicked upwards and then flicked back downwards towards the plane.

“Enki.”

“Dumuzi,” Methos gently murmured. “May I sit down?”

Names from long ago and Methos could almost smell the sand bringing up past memories of their adventures together.

“Sure, free country and its Murdock nowadays,” Murdock said.

“Doctor Ben Adams,” Methos pointed to himself and then got to business. “What are you doing in a place like this?”

“I think you need to buy me a drink first,” Murdock giggled and applied more glue to the wing.

Methos ignored the giggling. “Murdock.” He warned.

“A quickening went wrong,” Murdock whispered.

“Dark?” Methos asked fearfully.

Murdock shook his head. “Nonono, not Dark. Actual lightning struck me when I took a quickening and...” He placed the plane on the table and clapped his hands together while making exploding noises. “This is a good day for me.” He sighed and leaned his head against the table.

“You exploded?” Methos asked in disbelief.

“My quickening and past quickening's I’ve taken,” Murdock started to explain. “They’re mixed and echoes of the people from before keep rising up. Have to ride them like a surfboard on a wave.”

It sounded unbelievable and yet, there he could see the differences, a hint of wildness in eyes that were usually full of kindness. The body language, tense; as if waiting for something to happen.

Murdock looked like his friend of four thousand years, yet not. It was so confusing.

“You said this is a good day for you. What happens on the bad days?” Methos asked.

“A bad day is when the bad immortals try and take over,” Murdock began, but he sounded slightly child-like now. “I fight them in my head, but when I wake-up; I’m in a white jacket.” He lifted his head up and leaned in close to his friend. “I think I do bad things, but I don’t really know.”

“Have you tried dying again? Seeing if that will jolt you back to you?” Methos asked frustrated.

“Tried dying, electrocution and everything else I could think of,” Murdock counted off. “But not a quickening or lighting. Too scared I won’t be myself when I wake-up.”

“Murdock...”

“Nononono!!! I won’t do it!! You can’t make me!!” Murdock suddenly screamed as he grabbed his hair. “I don’t want you in here Inanna!!!”

Methos inhaled a breath. Murdock’s first Immortal wife, when he had been Dumuzi. The woman had ended up bat-shit crazy and his friend had been forced to take her head.

Orderlies rushed over and to restrain Murdock who started to flail about with his arms and legs and his eyes caught Methos. “ENKI!! HELP ME!! Enki!! Don’t let her get me!! Please!! Enki!!!! ENKI!!”

Helplessly, Methos watched his friend get dragged away. No doubt to be placed in some straight jacket and loaded up with drugs.

Fingering his doctor badge, he ripped it off and threw it into a nearby trashcan. He wouldn’t be joining Doctor Bean or Doctor Dean, whatever his name had been.

He was going to join the Watchers in England and see if there was anything in their histories about something like this happening. He could only pray to the gods he worshiped so long ago that he would find something to help his friend.

One of the very few friends he had left in this world.

End.

 

 **DOLLHOUSE**

In a corner of a low lit room that was decorated with wood furniture and wood panelling and a green shag carpet, sat a man rocking back and forth.

The only sound in the room was the steady banging of the man’s head against the wall and his harsh breathing.

Dressed in hospital pants and shirt, his eyes were wildly looking around his surroundings.

The door to the room soon slowly opened.

“Mr. Murdock?” asked a female voice.

A low moan was her answer.

“Oh good, you are here,” she replied.

Soon a woman dressed in a skirt and brightly patterned blouse, kneeled down so she was in Murdock’s line of vision. “I’m Cameron Laurence, Mr. Murdock. I run the Dollhouse here in New York. You do know why you’re here, correct?”

“Because I’m broken,” Murdock laughed harshly, but stopped his rocking. “CIA don’t like broken agents.”

Cameron patted Murdock’s knee gently. “You are not broken Mr. Murdock, but perhaps slightly wounded.”

“That’s a kind turn of phrase to say.”

“Yes, well...” Cameron smiled. “How about we get up and I’ll explain what you were signed up for.”

“I don’t wanna,” Murdock replied petulantly.

“Yes, well, you can either stand up on your own or these gentlemen behind me will help you stand up and escort you through the rest of the facility,” Cameron said sternly.

Murdock finally raised his head and saw the burly men standing behind Cameron, looking eager at dragging his butt through this ‘facility’.

“Fine.”

Standing up and wrapping his arms around himself, Murdock followed Mrs. Cameron Laurence out of the room and down a long hallway and into a bigger room which reminded him of one of the nicer massage parlours in Vietnam.

There were two girls and one male doing some sort of stretching exercise on a raised wooden platform.

“What is this place?” Murdock asked in wonder.

“The Dollhouse, Mr. Murdock,” Cameron replied. “A place where you can heal and forget the troubles of your life. We wipe you clean, down to a tabular rasa state using the newest technology available. You signed a contract for us to use you as we see fit for five years and in those five years you will be contracted out for various jobs.”

Murdock felt apprehensive about that. “I didn’t sign no contract, Mrs. Laurence. The CIA forced me to sign that contract.”

Here, Cameron turned around and faced Murdock. “Ah yes, to help correct your ‘mental imbalance’ and guarantee you full pardons for your friends on the A-Team.” She smiled predatorily at Murdock. “I remember quite well the conditions of your contract.”

“I ain’t crazy,” Murdock insisted.

“But you are not well either,” Cameron corrected.

Turning his head to the side, he was startled when Cameron gently lifted his head up. “It is nothing to be ashamed of. We are only here to help.”

“By trafficking my body out to others while I remain blissfully unaware,” Murdock spat out bitterly.

“In such crude words, yes.”

He always lived a full life and to others it made him seem a bit off, but now it was working against him and his friends were on the run. When this opportunity presented itself while he was recuperating from a mission for the CIA, he jumped at it. Not only because he knew it would help his friends, but because he knew he wasn’t well. Periods of blacking out, intermittent memory loss and he knew he was starting to become paranoid.

He needed to get help.

“Now, are you ready to be part of the Dollhouse?” Cameron asked smiling.

Murdock thought it made her look like a shark.

“Yeah, yeah I’m ready,” Murdock sighed.

“Then, let us get you up to the imprint room and you’ll begin your life as Delta.” Cameron took him by the hand and led him to a room that was sequestered off to the side.

Resigned to his new fate of five years, Murdock felt the smatterings of a paranoid thought flitter across his mind. Steeling his resolve, he followed Cameron into this ‘imprint room’ where he was ordered to strip down to his boxers and then lay down in a lounging chair.

Breathing harshly, Murdock glanced around and winced as needles were inserted into various areas in his body.

The last thing Murdock remembered was pain as he blacked out.

The being that now was in Murdock’s body slowly opened his eyes and asked a simple question.

“Did I fall asleep?”

End.

 

 **SUPERNATURAL**

 _1972 - CIA Headquarters_

Agent Ericson nervously paced the room he was in. It was a medium sized room covered in devil traps, designed to keep things in.

The most current thing standing inside the trap was a man. or so he appeared to be on the outside.

"You know, it doesn't do you any good to pace." He smiled at the Agent, it was all teeth. "I don't bite."

Agent Ericson nervously laughed. "Good one."

The man shrugged his shoulders. "What's this all about, Agent?"

"Your purpose has been fulfilled, demon," Agent Ericson said, licking his lips nervously.

"What?" Its tone was icy cold and the man's brown eyes clicked to black.

"We're sending you back," Agent Ericson said more confidently as a priest entered the room.

"You can't do this you piece of meat!" He snarled at the Agent and started to bang against the containment of the Devil's Trap. "I've done everything we've agreed to! We had a deal!"

"But it wasn't signed in blood or sealed," Agent Ericson stated. "So therefore, we owe you nothing."

The priest began the exorcism.

"Noo!!!" The demon howled as it twisted inside the Devil's Trap, writhing in agony, turning murderous eyes at Agent Ericson.   
"I'll make sure you burn in hell you worthless sack of meat!" Finally, it twisted its head to the ceiling as black smoke billowed from the man's mouth.

And like a puppet cut from its strings, the man collapsed to the ground.

Agent Ericson approached the downed man carefully. "Agent Murdock?"

Murdock moaned as he shifted into a ball and started to rock.

"Murdock?"

"Shhh gotta keep quiet. Things in the dark will get ya," Murdock muttered and continued to rock.

Opening the door, Agent Ericson gestured to two of the agents standing outside. "Get this man cleaned up and ready for a debrief and evaluation."

"Yes sir," The two agents muttered as they walked forward, hauled Murdock upwards and carried him out of the room.

~~~

"Sir, it is with my greatest reluctance I must proclaim Operation: Beelzebub a failure. Agent Murdock is the longest host we had and he only lasted two years. He's hallucinating about seeing things that aren't there and he keeps talking about a hellhound named, Billy, he's more dangerous than ever," The doctor paused as he pressed his glasses up with his forefinger.   
"How many more agents will we lose in trying to create the perfect blend of demon and human host?"

The directors of the project looked at one another and came to a firm decision.

"Very well, we shall cancel the operation and terminate Agent Murdock," One of the older men said.

"Sir, Agent Murdock did serve his country well, before, during and after Vietnam," The doctor ventured forth carefully. ”Couldn't he be retired to one of our VA's instead of termination?"

The men in charge of Operation Beelzebub huddled together and fierce whispering permeated the room before they broke away.

"Very well, we have a fine facility at the Westwood VA; we'll place him there," the same older man decided.

The room was cleared out quickly while preparations to have Agent Murdock moved went underway. In another section of the building, a figure was huddled in a corner of the room, away from the dark.

"Things in the dark will get ya, things in the dark will get ya and make you go crunch," Murdock whispered to himself as he rocked back and forth, back and forth as a hellhound named Billy stood in front of him and guarded.

End.

 

 **THE SENTINEL**

This wasn’t the first time his senses had gone out of control. That had been after he'd spent a week in a cage as a POW of ‘Chang’s Death Camp’ as Hannibal like to call it.

Murdock winced as a particular noise hit his eardrum. Face was the only one who could get his senses calmed down enough. Shivering, Murdock tried to ignore the noise and the fact that Face wasn’t here.

The increase in senses went away after awhile, but now it was back.

CIA agents didn’t like it when one of their own went ‘nuts’ and couldn’t handle the field as Murdock found that out the hard way.

Currently in the Westwood VA, he twitched and moaned as the voices from everywhere penetrated his skull.

The sounds were loud and sharp and stabbing in his ears. The current hospital clothes he wore itched and he could smell the ammonia coming from the floor. His eyesight focused on the intricate weaving patterns of the blanket on his bed

The worse was when his taste spiked when eating the hospital food. It often left him confined to his room or in a straight jacket when he had one of his ‘fits’.

And don’t get him started on Billy.

Billy first appeared after the POW camp, a dust coloured coyote that always came and went.

Murdock felt tears trail down his cheeks. He was tired of this, tired of everything. He just wanted it all to stop.

He wanted Face.

Face could make all of it stop.

Today was particularly bad as a new detergent the hospital staff was trying out had him breaking out in a rash. His arms were lathered up in various creams in an attempt to stop the itching.

Balancing on the dresser in his room, Murdock eyed the brightly coloured afghan that a thoughtful nurse had left behind and whimpered as he felt himself start to zone in on the colours.

Soon enough, a still Murdock was perched on the dresser, lost in colours and oblivious to the rest of the world.

End.

 

 **MAGNIFICENT SEVEN: ATF**

Murdock was nervous.

An older brother he never knew about had gone off and married a younger woman, fathered a child and then died of cancer just a couple of years ago.

What in the world did he know about raising kids? Hell, he had spent ten years in a VA mental hospital and then a couple of years as a CIA agent. Don’t even get him started on the Vietnam War and the Thunderbirds. What was he going to do with a fifteen year old kid who was grieving for his mother?

He was so doomed.

Murdock especially didn’t want to think about how the kid felt about being uprooted from his family home and tossed at an Uncle he never knew.

What was he going to do? He didn’t even know anything about this JD Dunne. His nephew.

First things first, he'd had to tell the others what was going, then get a room made up for his nephew in the house he and Face shared.

Murdock was going to get the young man this weekend and he'd better get ready because everything was about to change.

End.


End file.
